


I Was Happiest Between the Waves

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Self harm (implied), Suicide Attempt (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6816964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed! Likes + Kudos are always greatly appreciated! I also have a <a href="http://little-floral.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>, if you'd like to say hello!</p></blockquote>





	I Was Happiest Between the Waves

Curt’s never felt more at home than when Brian wraps him in his arms. 

Even as a child, when he lived at home, he didn’t feel like he belonged. Even aside from the whole electroshock therapy business, his parents were cold and heartless. They never trusted him. 

Even when he formed his band, finally able to use the flinching energy that filled him to the fingertips at the riff of an electric guitar for something meaningful, he didn’t feel as belonging as he does right now. 

Brian kisses his bare shoulder absently, running his hand along Curt’s stomach. “You’re thinking,” he murmurs against his skin. The waves, only a few yards away from their open window, crash around warm rocks and settle against golden sand before retreating. “What about?” 

“Lots of things,” he whispers, because he can’t admit to the fact that he’s thinking of how if he were given the opportunity, he’d stay in this bed, next to Brian, forever. 

Brian doesn’t press for answers. It’s a sort of mutual, unspoken agreement: Brian doesn’t ask what’s going through Curt’s head, and Curt doesn’t ask what the deal is with Brian and his wife. 

“You’re beautiful,” Brian says instead, finding Curt’s hand and gripping it tightly. 

The older man shakes his head, turning to look into Brian’s bright, beautiful eyes. “I’m a monster compared to you. Destined to live in the shadow of the mystical Brian Slade.” 

Brian’s smile is gentle and soft, caught only by the white duvet and the blond of Curt’s freshly bleached hair. He brings Curt’s hand up to press that smile against it, eyes never leaving the other’s. 

“Will you tell me you love me?” Brian asks, as though he doesn’t know that Curt would shed his own blood if Brian asked him to. 

He shifts closer, presses their foreheads together and stares into those clear, wild eyes. 

“I love you,” he says, and presses his lips to Brian’s. 

They entangle themselves into one another, hands catching on one another’s in a slow, gentle dance. 

Fistfights have been less painful. Electroshock therapy had been less painful.

Curt knows it can’t last forever. 

\----

“If you leave,” Brian’s voice is harsh and shaky, and tears are in his eyes, “you can’t come back.” 

Curt scoffs. It feels like reaching into his own chest and pulling his heart out. “Good. I don’t want to be stuck in this fucking place anymore. I can make it without all this shit, unlike you.” 

He slams the door and marches toward the waiting car, as though even this part of his life had been planned. 

“Go on, then! Back to your dogs! Back to your shock therapy! And fuck you, too!” 

Curt doesn’t turn around until he reaches the car, even with the spiteful words being hurled at him, not until long after the window’s been shut. Brian is watching him through the curtains, but his face disappears after his eyes meet Curt’s. 

He waits until the car is well out of the neighborhood before he keels over in the backseat, breath coming out in short puffs as tears blur his vision and leave his eyes burning. 

By the time he gets to the train station, he’s somewhat collected himself. His hands shake. 

He’d forgotten that Brian was the only thing to keep his addictions sated. 

Now that the anger has worn off, Curt knows the mistake he’s made. He goes through two packs of cigarettes a day until he can find a supplier of something stronger, and then he wakes up in a hospital bed three times in two months. 

He swears he sees Brian everywhere, as though he’s running around Berlin just to torture Curt. Every time he stops and watches him, though, he morphs into somebody else, a stranger that almost resembles Brian. 

Every time he wakes up in a hospital, it’s a disappointment. How much work does it take to die? 

\----

When the news gets out about the Brian Slade shooting, Jack has to wrestle a razor blade out of Curt’s hand and clean up the mess Curt’s made of his wrists. 

Not long after that, Jack Fairy drops Curt Wild from his record, and he fades from public view with not nearly as many theatrics as Brian Slade. 

\----

He sees Brian once before he disappears completely one night, in an empty room at a party. 

It’s the last party for both of them. Somehow, without words, they both know it. 

“Stupid stunt you pulled.” Curt says instead of the million other things he wants to say, keeping a safe distance between him and Brian. “Look what it cost you.” 

Brian takes a step closer. The door is closed and behind him, leaving Curt with no means of escape. “Stupid stunt you pulled, leaving me. Even Jack Fairy couldn’t make you shiny and new again.” 

Curt swallows dryly. He hasn’t had a fix in too long. Nevertheless, his hands don’t shake. “Well. At least I’m not disgraced. People aren’t burning posters of me on the streets.” 

Brian takes another step forward. This time, Curt takes one back. If he gets too close, he won’t be able to pull away. 

“You don’t have very much to be superior about.” He says evenly. “Jack told me all about your breakdown after I ‘died.’” He takes another step forward. 

Curt takes another back, and his back hits the wall. “You think that had something to do with you?” He breathes, watching helplessly as Brian advances on him like a predator readying to eat its prey. 

“Oh, Curt.” Brian murmurs and then Curt’s trapped, the breath knocked out of him by a gentle hand on his cheek. “I _know_ it did.”

Brian leans an inch forward and Curt is pulled the rest of the way by some unidentifiable force, and their lips slide together like rough sand coming into contact with the clear, smooth waves. 

His hands slide into dull turquoise hair and pull, as though the gentle tugs might be enough to punish Brian for all he’s done. Brian’s hands move along Curt’s thinning form, gripping shirt fabrics and scraping at his scalp. 

When they pull away Curt’s cheeks are wet, and Brian sets his forehead against Curt’s as though they can cure one another just by being so close. 

“I’m going away,” he says, and doesn’t ask Curt to go with him. 

Curt hates him. He hates him, but he can’t help the way his fingers curl into Brian’s hair in an attempt to convince him to stay. 

Slowly Brian reaches up and tangles his fingers in Curt’s, bringing them down from his hair and pressing a gentle, reverent kiss to the back of each hand. 

When Curt speaks, his voice is raw and shaky. “I won’t see you again.” It isn’t a question, because he knows the answer. Brian’s eyes return to his, and he slowly pulls away. 

Their hands are the last thing to part. When they do, Curt’s feel heavy and changed. 

Brian’s eyes linger on him until he slips out the door, and then he’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Likes + Kudos are always greatly appreciated! I also have a [Tumblr](http://little-floral.tumblr.com/), if you'd like to say hello!


End file.
